


Birthday

by iamisaac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 13:32:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9237269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac
Summary: Ron has committed the cardinal sin of forgetting his boyfriend's birthday.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lokifan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokifan/gifts).



“My _birthday_ , Weasley. You forgot my birthday.”

Ron’s boyfriend had a glare on him which could scare an acromantula (not that Ron had any intention of getting near enough an acromantula to test this, thank you very much). At the moment, it was fixed firmly on Ron.

Who had forgotten Draco’s birthday.

Well. Not _forgotten_ , exactly. Not really. Just, sort of… misremembered the date, was all. By a month. June… July. Four letter months beginning with J. It was an easy enough mistake to make, especially because Harry’s was in July, so Ron had kind of thought that Draco’s was as well. Which he absolutely wasn’t going to say, because mentioning Harry to Draco, even now, was like insulting a hippogriff – a hugely bad, and potentially fatal, plan.

“Not… I didn’t… I mean...”

Draco had his hands on his hips now as well, a fierce light in his grey eyes. Sometimes that light meant good things, like sex. Ron had a horrible feeling that ‘sometimes’ wasn’t today. Not unless he managed some very quick talking.

“Ron, you’re stuttering, you’re red in the face _and_ ears, and you’re making half-arsed protests that even a first year Hufflepuff wouldn’t believe.” Draco huffed. “I can’t believe this. You remember the birthdays of all those ridiculous red-headed siblings of yours, and their revolting little snivelling brats – but when it comes to your _boyfriend_ \- your _boyfriend_ , Weasley -”

Ron took the insults directed towards his family with a mellowness that a younger version of him would have stared at in disbelief. However, that younger version hadn’t seen Draco playing pat-a-cake with one of the ‘snivelling brats’ before tickling another into a state of giggles that an indignant Fleur had later complained had taken her hours to recover from. It was difficult to take his criticisms with the same level of indignation after that. 

Nonetheless, Ron could see that he had made a major error here. Draco was always one for presents – though surprisingly, the cost of them didn’t matter nearly as much as the amount of thought put in: Draco would never admit to liking it, but a badly misshaped clay pot made by Victoire was in pride of place in Ron and Draco’s bedroom, in which he kept his cuff-links. It was the first present he’d received from one of the Weasley children, and when Ron had once nearly broken it, Draco had yelled at him for five minutes straight.

It was the thought behind a present that mattered. The thought which meant that a birthday had been remembered and actively considered. That Draco had been remembered, and that he mattered. It seemed funny that he should be so sensitive about it, but Ron knew that deep down, Draco worried that he wasn’t important enough for people to care about. And so, forgetting his birthday was a cardinal sin, and one which Ron should have known better than to commit. There were two options: try and bluff his way out of it (not a good plan, because Draco would never believe him), or throw himself on Draco’s mercy (also a bad plan, but the best that Ron had).

Taking a deep breath, Ron went with option two. He flung himself to his knees in front of his boyfriend, clasping his hands together in front of him in supplication.

“Draco, I am the utterly worst boyfriend in the world. I deserve all the punishments you could give me...” (A nice touch, since Draco was fond of delivering spankings, and Ron wasn’t at all averse to receiving them. He gave a quick look up and saw the beginnings of a thoughtful expression on Draco’s face, which was more hopeful than anything he’d seen there previously.) He bowed his head (dangerous, dangerous, what if Draco attacked like the crazy dragon he kind of was? But worth the risk). “I will do whatever you want for the next twenty-four hours” (okay, Ron definitely had a death wish, but on the other hand, he’d experienced some of the things Draco liked him to do, and it would be a bloody good way to die) “and… and… and you can have blow-jobs on demand for the next three months.” 

He paused, looking up. Draco had stopped with the death-glare, but was still looking fairly grumpy. Ron played his trump card. “Plus I’ll get you a birthday present within the next week,” he promised. 

It wasn’t that difficult a promise, to tell the truth. Ron actually already knew what he was intending to get Draco for his birthday – he’d planned it ages ago, it was just that he thought he had another month before… Well, anyway.

Draco’s face brightened. “A good present?” he asked suspiciously.

Ron beamed. For once in his life, he was pretty sure that he’d hit on something which was perfect for his difficult-to-please boyfriend. Draco had had to accept, when he started dating Ron on a permanent basis, that the likelihood of his producing a Malfoy heir was somewhat limited, given that they were both blokes. (Otherwise known as ‘not going to happen’.) Ron had found it hard enough to tell his mum that there were going to be no small Ronnies, as George described it; and he had five other siblings who seemed happy to provide grandchildren (with the exception of Charlie, who had dragons instead… well, Ron supposed he did, too – in a way). Draco, though – he was an only child. And from a Pureblood family who must have wanted Draco to reproduce for reasons above and beyond a desire to dote upon grandchildren. That Draco had chosen to be with Ron – a despised Weasley (though Ron knew Draco didn’t think like that any more) – despite all that… Ron appreciated it. And he wanted to do the best he could for his boyfriend.

But, well, Ron couldn’t give Draco children (though, he supposed, adoption might not be out of the question – but that was a long time ahead) but he could do something else for him. Draco’s family had a tradition of naming their children after stars. Ron had discovered that in the Muggle world, it was possible to pay so that you could name a star itself. If they couldn’t name their kid after a star (for an adopted child would have a name anyway), then Draco would at least be able to name a star itself.

“Wait and see.”

Draco’s face relaxed even further. “I know that ‘wait and see’, Ron. That means ‘yes’ in Weasel-language.” He raised an eyebrow. “But there’s something I’m not prepared to wait for.”

“What is it?” Ron asked with resignation.

Draco smirked. “The first of those blow jobs you promised me.”

It wasn’t a request but an order. On the other hand, Ron had had a reason for offering that particular penance. Draco’s cock was perfect – not too thick, a beautiful rosy tip, long enough to satisfy without being so large that Ron choked over it. There were, secretly, few things Ron liked better than Draco’s cock in his mouth, though there was no way he was ever telling Draco that.

“I did promise,” he agreed, hiding his smile.

“And you’re already on your knees,” Draco murmured, the smirk increasing.

“Am I forgiven?” Ron said hopefully.

Draco’s smile finally reached his eyes. “I’ll think about it,” he said.

In Malfoy-language, that was a ‘yes’.


End file.
